Deliverance of the Sinners
by Stygian Hue
Summary: He tried hard to remember, trying to recall the missing memories of his life before—the gaps he couldn't fill in. But then he remembered the letter: Ignorance is bliss. It's a gift that's given, a plea that is granted. It's a redemption. Don't dig into the unknown as it will only bring you sorrow. Mature contents. Explicit. Non-canon.
1. Prelude

**Prelude**

 _May,_ _1998_

He took a deep and long breath as if it was his last. He could no longer smell the mustiness in the mildewed room as the stench shifting from putridity into strong metallic scent. He was on the verge of unconsciousness. The world became blurry. His eyelids felt so heavy, it would be nice to close it. The temptation was so great. But no, he had to hold it a little longer. _Bear it, your due is almost over. Just a little longer. For her._ But it was getting harder and harder to keep his consciousness at bay as life slowly leaving his body along with the blood that kept coming out from the gaping gash on his throat.

He almost blacked out when suddenly he saw shimmering vague shapes coming from the corner of the room. When that shadows were close enough, he finally recognized them—Potter and his sidekicks. He gathered his last strength to call the boy-who-made-his-life-miserable over. No, this was no time for long buried hatred. It was his last chance to make thing right, to pay for the sin he'd done in the past.

As they rushed closer, he extracted his memories. Then he said in his breathy voice, "Take...it...Take...it." He gave the silvery-blue wasps to the son of his unrequited flame. Finally, his duty was over. He could leave this life without any regret. Looking deeply into the boy's emerald eyes for the last time, catching a glimpse of Lily there. _Lily._ With her as his last thought, he closed his eyes—letting the pain took him over and submerged him into sea of unconsciousness. He was lost to the world. Not even responding to a desperation of a woman with hazel eyes calling out to his name, trying to reach him. She was all but fruitlessly trying to revive him as all he could see was cloud of darkness surrounded him.

This, as some people recalled, was how Severus Snape died.

* * *

 **English isn't my mother tongue and I haven't proofread it. So, beware of the bumpy road of grammatical errors and typos. Any feedback is really appreciate to make me write better :D**

 **Several first chapters are short. But I will write longer after this.**


	2. The Forlorn Serpent

**Chapter One**

 **The Forlorn Serpent**

 _August,_ _1998_

The man with the bright golden hair sat lonesome on the armchair by the fire, pouring another round of French whiskey on to his tumbler. So engrossed on his own thought, he didn't feel the blistering heat scorching him as the pyre dancing too close against his pale skin. His aristocratic face was portraying a state of lax, yet if someone knew him better, his body was anything but—his body sat too tensely against the upholster, his fingers clutched too tightly against the cold glass, and the corner of his right eye twitched a little when he was in a deep disturbing thought. But nobody knew him better. He had no one. He wanted to laugh at the irony if it wasn't too agonizing.

People said he ought to be grateful. He got through that damn war relatively unscathed. He didn't have to serve his time in that despicable hell of a prison again. Abominable and loathsome place they called Azkaban. He had had enough for that. If he could obliviate himself, the very first memory he surely wanted to erase was that disgraceful time he imprisoned in there. It wasn't a place fit for a man his _calibre._ After discharged from that vile confinement, he had to clean himself with that foul smelling soap—he was sure his so called _friend_ made it for him just to make fun of him, but he had no other option as he kept feeling dirty no matter how many times he took a bath. The offensive smell was worth the suffering as long as he was freed from the loathsome fleas he got there.

Yes, he wasn't imprisoned. Sure, for that boon alone he ought to feel grateful. But, the war wasn't without a price. The fare he had to pay was high. No, he wasn't talking about the whopping galeon he had to pay for the ministry as a fine for his involvement to the _thwart_ side. But, it was far more valuable than that; he lost his family and the only person he regarded as his accomplice. His wife along with his son left him. That was only to be expected as the affliction they'd suffered these past few years. Foreseeable but still stunned him. His wife, proposed to what she called _trial separation_ _._ She then moved to an estate in Switzerland, to avoid the rackety in the country she said. She probably wanted an easier way out, he thought—starting a new. He understood that, living with him wouldn't be easy. It never been easy. He had no room in every side—the light, the dark, the right, the left—he was all but their enemy. But the discussion about divorce was off the table as an issue as such would bring more disgrace to his already tainted family's name. His son, much to his chagrin, decided to be back at that blasted school to finish his seventh year and take the NEWTs. Then, he also lost, probably the only _true_ friend he'd ever had. But for the latter, it was probably for the best as _he_ had suffered enough to last for several life times.

Indulging another gulp of whiskey, he was spellbound; listening to the sound of the roaring thunder outside then the rain fell in a crescendo against the windowpanes. The outrage sound outside was better that the deafening silence before. Yes, he preferred it this way.

It was no time for dwindling, it would be unbecoming and disgraceful for a Malfoy to be drawn in woes. He got to move on. Yes, he had to clean and bring his family's name back to his prominence.

Finishing his drink, he stood then heading toward his cold and desolate chamber. Facing his fate.


	3. The Dimmed Moon

**Chapter two**

 **The Dimmed Moon**

 _September,_ _1999_

The soft wet grass felt so good against her bare feet. The soft wind grazing against her ivory skin was pleasant too. She was humming incoherent tunes as she walked around aimlessly in the meadow, trying to harmonize her sound with the hymn sung by a flock of buff feathered birds nearby.

The sun wasn't even fully awakened yet, its reddish spectrum only peeping up a little behind the hill by the moorland. In that goddamn hour, she was supposed to sleep, cocooned warmly under safety of her woollen blanket. But she just couldn't.

More than a year had passed since the Wizarding War II. Most wizards and witches had moved on from that gruesome war; living a life to the fullest in the so called _new wizarding era_. But that wasn't the life that Luna Lovegood having. Life would never be the same for those who were so close to the war.

True, in the front, she still had that airy personality and distinct dottiness on her, but sometimes that qualities would immediately replace with a rather vacant demeanour especially when she was alone. And she was alone often enough. As after she graduated from school, she lived alone in her dreary house.

Her father was never the same; aurors said that he was tortured while imprisoned in Azkaban by Voldemort's followers. So often she visited him in Janus Thickey's ward in St. Mungo, relentlessly talking to him in her dreamy voice although his vacant eyes was the only response she got. Maybe Wrackspurts or Blibbering Humdingers were meddling with his brain, they probably liked his head very much as he had a lot of waggish ideas stored there. But it was fine. She would find a way to chase those naughty creatures away and her dad would be as good as new.

Harry and Mrs Weasley concerned about her well-being of course. They even offered her to stay in Grimmauld Place or The Burrow but she declined their offers politely. She liked their places but only for some sort amount of time. She needed the quietness her house provided as she wanted to continue publishing The Quibbler. Also Dabberblimps would infest her house if she let her house vacant for far too long. They were annoying little creatures, messing her house really bad when she left the house to finish her seventh year in Hogwarts. Apparently they liked to live in old boxes as she found so many boxes scattered all over her house when she was back from school on summer. She had to go to the Dart Moor to collect a fresh batch of bobble-joggle berries and scattered it around her house to chase that Dabberblimps away.

Yes, quietness was good. But sometimes she felt that she got too much of it; she felt it constricted her air-flow, making it harder for her to breathe. When that happened, it was her cue to take a barefoot walking to The Burrow or simply apparate to Grimmauld Place. She would stay there for all afternoon, enjoying the loud they provided, then she would be back to her house before the dusk settled. When night came, she was all alone again.

Maybe Wrackspurts also muddled up her brain, as sometimes she woke up screaming in the middle of her fitful sleep. That was the reason why she refused to stay over at Grimmauld Place or The Burrow: she didn't want to cause them any trouble or worry. Those Wrackspurts made her dreaming about the war, especially the time she spent in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor. She probably got infected there! Poor Mr. Malfoy, he didn't even know they were there. She should help him, he couldn't defend himself from a flock of Wrackspurts alone! Yes, she probably should.

Then she continued wandering aimlessly until it was time to feed the chicken.


	4. The Woes of the Cub

**Chapter Three**

 **The Woes of the Cub**

 _September,_ _1999_

She felt she was out of place. She didn't know where she belonged. She didn't belong in The Grimmauld Place. She didn't belong in The Burrow. She didn't belong even in her old house in London. So, where should she go? She ought to start a new life. But what kind of life it would be? A life she herself couldn't tell.

People who knew her would probably find it bizarre if she told them she didn't know what to do with her life. She, Hermione Granger, the brain of so called The Golden Trio, didn't even know what her future plans are. The very idea was very preposterous! Weird, but true. For quite sometime she just let her life streamed along with the flow. After the war ended, she helped to rebuild Hogwarts' castle then as expected she finished her seventh year and took the NEWTs. But after passing all of that, what should she do with her life then? Working at the ministry? Being an apprentice? Or to continue her study at muggle university? Labelled as _the brightest witch of her age_ , she ought to prepare her future long before. But she couldn't focus on that as her mind always wondering back into her past. Her mind always found its way back to her parents then to _him_.

Although it was imperative for her to erase her parents' memories to keep them safe. She always felt guilty and it still pained her. She missed them so much. That's why she couldn't bear to stay at their place for too long. Everything reminded her of them. Even the chipped mug sitting at the corner of their cupboard reminded her of their little bickering back in her childhood days. The dark spot on their couch reminded her when her father spilled his coffee as he enthusiastically watching football on telly. Scared of the wrath of her lovely wife, he then bribed Hermione with some chocolates as to keep his wrongdoing a secret between them. The soft spot on their carpet reminded Hermione of her mother as her mummy moved back and forth, trying to cool her anger down every time she and her dear husband had a quarrel.

" _You and your future partner can't be a stubborn people at the same time, dear. Conceded a little doesn't mean you lose. If you can't compromise or he wouldn't do your bidding, don't you ever let_ _the_ _anger control you. It always ends bad. Cool your temper. Have another_ _sweetened way. As the old people said, it's easier_ _catch_ _flies with honey_ _than with vinegar_ _. If you're meant to be, if he loves you enough, and you love him enough, you two will always find a way. Albeit it probably isn't an easy way. But remember, you will always have each other."_ She would always remember her mother's words. Always. Like she would always remember her mummy and daddy. But sometimes too much memories of them pained her. That was why she didn't feel she belonged in that house, not without their present there.

Then sometimes she also felt she didn't belong in wizarding world either. People might call it _The New Wizarding Era._ But she still felt the same as before. From her perspective, not so much changes happened after the war. As there were Voldemort's leftovers still sitting on the ministry and on the council. Then some of whom who bore the dark mark were still on the loose, probably waiting for the right time to retaliate. Tragic, but that was the reality, even after his demise, he still had the influence in the wizarding world. His antagonistic views regarding wizarding world and muggle born were too deep rooted in their society after planted and cheered for so long. She hated how too closed minded wizards and witches were. They weren't ready to embrace changes in their society. It needed a lot of time and effort to change that. 

Aside from that, wizarding world also reminded her of _him_ —the misunderstood hero she failed to save. Maybe it was the guilty. Yes, she probably felt those remorse feeling because she couldn't save him—if only she was quick enough, if only she brought enough potions.

 _She tried to blink away the gruesome scene in front of her. But the scene stayed the same every time she opened her eyes. Shiver run down her spine. The second most wanted man in British Wizarding World is dying on the cold and dirty floor in front of them. His black clothes became a shade darker and the red puddle flooded the wooden floor as blood kept coming out from his gaping wound. The room smelled like rusted iron now. The room became eerie silent. No one dared to move or emit any sound._

 _Then it was Harry who was out of the trance first. Quickly, he rushed toward the dying figure on the floor. The said man was so pale as he already lost too much blood. Suddenly, silvery-blue wisps are streaming from his mouth, ears, and eyes. "Take...it...Take...it,"he said with his breathy voice. With his trembling hand he gave Harry_ _his_ _memories then slowly he closed his eyes._

 _No, this didn't feel right. She couldn't just leave him there, dying. Deep down she always had this nagging feeling that he was on their side all along but she always buried it away. Collecting her courage, she came closer to the scene. She called his name repeatedly but he gave no response. His heartbeat was almost couldn't be detected anymore. So quickly she gave the essence of dittany to his wound. She didn't have the antivenin for Nagini's bite so she only gave him bezoar. Then she gave him blood replenish potions. Her potions wasn't enough as he lost too much blood. But she could only do so much for the time being._

 _The dying man gave no reaction. His life kept ebbing away. Unbeknownst to her, tears started to leak from her eyes as she felt him gave away his last heartbeat._

 _No one dared to make any sound, only the sound of their breaths could be heard. The silence was broke when Voldemort's amplified voice was heard; threatening everyone if Harry didn't surrender himself._

 _Hearing Voldemort's ultimatum, Ron spoke,"Come on now 'Mione. We must go. There is no time for that git."_

" _We must go Hermione. We will come back for him later," Harry promised as he rushed toward the tunnel, following Ron._

 _She touched his pale skin then she felt emboldened, for one last time, for no one needs to know, she kissed him, she kissed his chapped and dry lips. She didn't know why the hell she did that. Maybe as a last token of gratitude. Or probably him being pitiable and her being sappy._

 _Then having no other choice, she said in her raspy voice, "I promise I will be back." Then she left him._

 _The war was over. It was finally over._

 _The war was devastating. It was painful to watch so many casualties on their side. So many blood and tears was shed that night on that battle. Sorrowful wailing was heard all over the castle ground. Her body was ached all over, her tears was dried after shed for so many. Her body demanded a little rest but she couldn't afford it. She had a promise that she ought to keep. Didn't want to disturb the mournful party, she walked quietly leaving the Great Hall. She was just about to leave the castle when suddenly Harry followed her in hurriedly paces._

 _They walked in silence. They didn't to say the words, they knew where they were headed. After watching the pensieve, everything became clearer. They were all just pawns without them even realizing, pawns to the greater good orchestrating by Dumbledore himself. They were all suffered their own share. She always thought that Harry's burden was the heaviest. But turned out, it was_ _ **him**_ _who had the heftiest loads. Harry still had his friends and Order's on his back. But him? He had no one to shared his burden. He was on his own, suffering. Tortured._

 _With hasty pace, they_ _rushed back to_ _Shrieking Shack_ _but his body was nowhere to be found. Only traces of his blackened blood_ _marring the floor_ _was left._ _His body was gone. Her tears was back, flowing heavily than before. Her legs were giving up as she sobbing uncontrollably close to the darkened floor._

 _People assumed that it was probably one of the Voldemort's followers who took his body. Probably took his lifeless body to torture after they knew his truly allegiance. He was died to the world._ _They didn't even have the chance to give him a proper burial. But m_ _ost wizards and witches didn't really care even though he sacrificed so much for them. They took him for granted. Just like she used to before._

 _She was wrecked._

She wished she could change the past. Sighing, she heard his name everywhere, from hushed and whispered admiration to loud and callous voices calling him _names_. More often the latter.

Her chest tightened every time she remembered him. _Hurt._

Merlin's hairy armpits, she was thinking too much. Maybe she needed a bit of fresh air to clear her mind. Yes, she had to escape for a while. Hurriedly, she took a bath then packed her clothes and some supplies to her beaded bag. Sighing, she needed to tell Harry first before she could travel. It was her time to cook after all, so time to break the fast and a bit chit chat was in order.

In the midst of serving pancakes into plates, Harry came with his auror uniform, "Good morning, sis," he said to her as he sat in the stool in front of her.

"Good morning to you, too, Harry," she replied while pouring orange juices to their glasses. "Wow, you look rather dishevel, young man. Rough case last night?" She already fell asleep so she didn't know what time he came back.

"Yes, got a tip on some weird activities in this muggle village near Berkshire. Couldn't find the leader, but this youngins were rather harsh with curses so a fight couldn't be avoided. They tried to escape at odd places. It took all night to catch them as it was a muggle place so we couldn't over do with magic."

"For goodness's sake, are you okay? You should've woken me up if you got hurt Harry," she said concerned.

"Don't worry Hermione. It's just scratches, nothing serious. Nothing but a bit healing salve couldn't heal," he said with a little smile. Wanting to change the topic he took a sip of his juice than added, "It's been several days since Luna' last visit. I am wondering if she's okay. Maybe we should visit her sometime."

"Yes, that will be great. I am worry about her as well."

Their train of conversation was halted when a big tousled bird came through the window then dropped a letter on the table. They recognized the tawny owl, it was the Weasley's. Harry gave some tidbit to the owl then opened the letter.

"So, what it is about?" she asked.

"Hmm, Mrs. Weasley wants us to come over for a dinner this weekend," he conveyed the message.

"I couldn't make it this weekend, Harry." Oops, maybe she answered to abruptly.

"Is it because of Ron?" _or whomever he dated at the time,_ he added to himself.

She wanted to laugh at his question, "Of course no, Harry". She took Harry's hand then squeezed in hers to convinced him,"We are incompatible in many aspects Harry. He's been moved on since long ago. And I ought to."

"Move on? You mean cheated on you? He's a git. And I understand if you won't come to The Borrow just yet. I'll say hello to Mrs. Weasley."

Sighing, why Harry had to bring that topic up. Yes, Ronald was a git. Unlike her and Harry who hated the spotlight as they coming up labelled as war heroes, Ronald embraced every aspect or their popularity in the whole new level. He loved every attention he got. People were swarming them like moths toward flame—who didn't want a piece of a fame people could get by just because they got close to them? Ronald took that opportunities very well. He submitted to the temptation and literally embrace those attention. She didn't want to believe that at first. But when she went to Hogsmeade not long after she was back to school, she caught him snogging a bright haired witch at the corner of Madam Rosmerta's pub, she finally believed it. He betrayed her. When she confronted him, he said it was her fault. Her fault for being a frigid prude that he had to see other witches to release his pent up _needs_. That's it, she had enough. It was over.

Maybe it was for the best for them to end whatever relationship they had. Like she said to Harry, they had nothing in common, except having Harry as their best friend. After a long thought, she finally realized that she did love him, but she wasn't in love with him. She relented and tried to accept that fact. But still, sometimes it pained her to watch him.

But no, this wasn't the case this time. She wasn't going to The Borrow to avoid that red haired git, but she needed a time to herself and she didn't want Harry to think the otherwise. "No, Harry. I am not going to The Burrow to avoid the _plaque_ ," she gave him a smile at this reference. "I am going home for several days, Harry. Starting today. I want some days off—magic free and quietness that I could afford there."

"Are you going there alone? Do you need me to accompany you over there?" he asked worriedly.

"Don't worry brother, I will be perfectly safe and sound over there. I will be accompanied by the best things a young woman could ask for—pizza, ice cream, and telly! And probably watch one or two chick flicks at the movie. Beside, you have a work to do. While I have nothing to do for the time being. Also, the house needs a bit tidying and some magic to make sure it stay clean, count it as killing time." She squeezed his hand again for assurance.

"Okay, I believe that. But if something happen or you need anything, you have to let me know. Agreed?"

"Agreed," she answered the got up to kiss him in the cheek while gathering the dishes.

"It's my time to do the dishes. You cook, I clean, right?"

"No, I feel rather benevolent today. Just today, mister. Don't get your hopes up. So, up you go! You have tons of works to do and loads of rascal youngins to catch."

"Alright, damn it. You're right." Sighing, he got up and gathered his things before he said goodbye to her.

After the front door was closed, silence surrounded her. Quickly, she finished washing the dishes then she went to her room. Checking up her things for a second time then she was ready to go. But, she had one last baggage to pack before she was going.

"Crookshanks, Crooks, come here," she called her feline then seconds later the said familiar came and brushed its bob tail against her legs. "Sorry, Crooks, but you have to bear the travel for a while. I couldn't leave you here alone and bother Harry." She said to the orange fluffy then put him to the pet carrier.

She felt bad for lying to Harry. But she didn't have any other choice. If she said she wanted to go to some random cabin in the middle of nowhere, he would definitely go batty and worry about her well-being. That was why she couldn't tell him the truth. She couldn't tell him that she wasn't going to her parents' house and instead she was going the bury her sadness in some random place. Okay, not truly random. She'd ever been to that cabin, once, when she was about five or six year old. It was her father friend's cabin, Mr Anderson's—the one with the warm smile and funny sideburns, not the one who loved to wear bright flowery coloured shirt and tight leather pants.

Couple years before the final battle, before she had to send her parents away, her parents wanted to go for a summer vacation to that cabin. She promised them that she would join them there as she rarely spent time with them anymore. Her father said that the weather would be great, the sunrise would be beautiful. It would be perfect for swimming, fishing, even just for lying around. In other words, yes, it would be perfect for a family time. But sadly, that time would never come.

Now, she was going to fulfill that promise, albeit only a small part of that promise—yes, she was going to that promised cabin, alone. What she was going to do probably considered as a crime as she was going to trespass someone else property without the owner's permission. But her father said that it was rarely used anymore so having her staying there wouldn't be a real problem, right? She would leave the place as it was, no trail would be left behind, or she would probably helping to tidy up the place a bit as a payment. Yes, it would work that way.

Built up her courage, she stepped out from Grimmauld Place. After she was out of the house's ward, she went into the apparition point. Apparition was the best viable method for her to go there as she had no driving license and hiking on the trail would take forever. Taking a deep breath, she casted a calming charm to Crookshanks. Before dissaparate, before she left the dust behind her trail with a loud _pop_ , she hoped that her memory did her no harm.

The loud sound of her apparate was muddled by a deafening sound that piercing her ears. For quite sometime she was unaware that the ear-splitting sound she heard before was her own voice—her own screaming voice. When she was aware of her surrounding, she realized how wrong she was, totally wrong, her memory did her harm. She arrived at the wrong place. She was deserted on a steep slope in the middle of a dense woodland and she was drenched as heavy rainfall was soaking the land. Then to take the matter worse, when her adrenalin was down, she then realized that she was splitting herself. Twinge of sharp pain came from her left leg. Her body kept twitching as she mumbling incoherence sounds every time the sharp throbs hitting her nerves.

Focusing her mind, she tried to heal her injury. It was a bit better but she only healed the outer wound. She had to see a healer. Walking limply with a pet carrier in her hand, she tried to reach a clearance space to apparate from the wood as the slope wasn't an ideal place to do one. It wasn't an easy task as the heavy raindrops blocked her sight and the muddy soil made it harder for her to walk. When she was almost out off the steep and reached the clearance, a sudden and thunderous bolt was blazing and struck a tall hardwood not far from her. Startled, she lost her balance on the earth's slippery surface and fell hard down the slope. She held her carrier against her body, shielding it against the impact of their fast and hard descend. It was only stopped when her head hit the rock. Crookshanks meowing loudly, calling out her mistress. But she was out of cold, drenched and bled n the floor of the Knott End forest.


	5. The Lightening Strike Twice

**Chapter Four**

 **The Lightening Strike Twice**

 _Blast that_ _pug-faced of a weatherman! Forecast? That could go to hell!_ He should never believed that shit of a show. He could foretell doomsday more accurate than them predicted the weather. According to them, the weather was supposed to be mild, no rain to light rain would happen this morning. That was why he decided to take a hike and look for some rhubarb in the wood.

He wasn't roaming in the wood long enough before a tiny droplet of a sorry water kissed his hair. Soon enough, the droplets gradually became thick raindrops that beating against his skin. Sighing, he walked fast with his long strides to seek protection against that biting subjects. He took a shelter under a shady pine tree as the rainstorm continued brewing heavily.

Standing still, his body leaned on stiffly against the tree trunk. _Shit,_ the pain was coming back again. He pressed his hand hard against a rather long and jagged scar on his neck as if by doing so he could diminish the pain emanating from it. But it was to no avail, the pinching pain kept coming back. So hurt, then it spread to his head. Closing his eyes, he massaged his temples to alleviate the pain. The pain was lasted for several minutes. But he kept tracing the jagged scar even after the pain was subdued. _What kind scar is this? What caused this? How come such a small scar could make that grievous pain._

He tried hard to remember, trying to recall the missing memories of his life before—the gaps he couldn't fill in. But then he remembered the letter: _Ignorance is bliss. It's a gift that's given, a plea that is granted. It's a redemption. Don't dig into the unknown as it will only bring you sorrow._

Yes, it was probably for the better. For him to stay this way—stay away from the past he might come to resent.

 _Ignorance is bliss._ He kept chattering that as a mantra. 

He was so lost in his own mind. Then he was awakened from his daze when he heard a loud thunder but without a flash of lightening not very far from his right side. _Weird, a very strange occurrence indeed._ Then he startled when he heard a ear-piercing scream following that occurrence. Did someone struck by that thunder? He was running fast on the muddy soil, coming closer to the sound of that wailing. Then suddenly came another thunder blazing and striking an old sturdy tree. But that thunder came with the prelude of thunderbolt beforehand.

He quickening his pace as he heard the sound of something fell then hit the rather soft ground. The sound came from the slope, carefully he descended and found the objects he was looking for.

The girl with the wild cinnamon hair was unconscious when he found her. Lying at odd angle, drenched and soaked by the heaven's tears and her own blood. The scarlet liquid kept marring her pale skin, probably coming from the scar on her head after colliding with the rock.

Without slowing his strides, he came beside he to assess her injuries. When he was sure he could move her body without causing more damages, he then realized a hissing sound kept coming from a blue box not far from her body. _Bloody hell._

His day couldn't get any stranger than it was.

He just found a _bloody_ peculiar girl with her feral beast who came along when the lighting strike.


	6. Derilium

**Chapter Five**

 **Derilium**

It took quite sometime for him to take her to the cottage as the rain still fell angrily to the earth. That, added with the fact that he also had to bring a baggage that keep hissing at him.

Arriving at the house, he quickly divested her wet clothes then re-assessing her injuries. Grateful that there was no mortal peril injury, he started to tend the wound on her forehead. The collision would surely cause a concussion but she was lucky enough that she didn't have any internal bleeding. He cleaned all of her wounds and scratches, then he applied some ointment and seal it with bandages. Her left ankle was swollen, probably sprained. But she would live. Quickly he put her on some dry clothes then he tucked her under the blanket.

When the rainstorm ceased, he had to take her to a doctor. Pinching the bridges of his nose, then sighing, he murmured to himself about how he hated going to that bustling neighborhood.

What an unexpected day. He needed a stiff drink.

He was about to take a can of cold beer from the fridge when he heard that startling malicious hissing coming from the living room.

"For fuck's sake. Can I get a bit time off?" he kept grumbling as he walking closer toward that said sound.

The orange frizzy feline was hissing harder as he came closer. "Look, you scruffy beast. Your mistress is fine. I will let you out and you can check her yourself, whether she is alive or not. But _only if_ ," he emphasized," _only if_ , you behaving yourself and do not put your whetted teeth or claws on me. If you do that, I am afraid that I have to kick you out of the house and let those other mangy beasts out there to have a feast on you."

 _Shit,_ he probably lost his mind already, why else would he talk to a creature like this. But, as he questioned his sanity, the feline stopped hissing and let a loud meow as if he was agreeing the deal.

"Good, be on your best behaviour. But before you can see her, let me dry your fur first."

The beast wasn't as feral as he initially thought. The feline stayed still when he was drying his fluffy fur, even purred when he rubbed his head or his stomach. Good that he didn't have to make a doormat out of his fluffy fur if he was going to misbehave.

Darkness started to crawl and swallow the lights out of the lonesome cabin by the lake. Thunder still roaring loudly outside and there was no sign of the halt of that bizarre downpour anytime soon.

He thought that the sound of the heavy dew splattering against the rooftops was the one that woke him up from his rather fitful sleep. But then he heard some another noises. Someone or _something_ was scratching his bedroom door. The scratching was getting more intense then accompanied by loud mournful howling voice.

 _That blast of a beast._

Lazily he came by the door then opened it. "What the hell do you want now beast?" His stomach was growling after he muttered those words.

As if the feline was feeling the same, the orange fluff meowing then rubbing its body against his legs. The languish meow combine with pitiful eyes were enough to make a hard man like him relented to the beast's plea.

It was dark and he'd not eaten any since morning. No wonder his stomach gave such a thunderous grumble. The beast probably felt the same.

He didn't mean to sleep that afternoon but turned out the beast's fur was making him allergic. He was sneezing non-stop after drying its fur. Then he had to take a pill to alleviate the allergies. Taking the pill not long after he took the drug for his nerves pain was something he definitely mustn't doing again in the future—the combined sedative was making him sleep like a dead.

Sighing, he checked the girl first—as he suspected she still fell a sleep. The he went to the kitchen to prepare some stew for him and a little something for the cat. What should he feed him? He never had a cat and he definitely didn't have any cat food to offer.

The said cat was following him and watching him preparing the food. "What do you want for dinner beast? Don't be picky. I don't have many for you to offer". He was barmy for trying to talk to a cat.

Opening up his fridge, he took out some chicken breast and tuna. "Which one do you prefer?" Right he was definitely go barmy.

The cat was licking its fur when he offered the chicken meat, only peeped little then continued to lick its tush.

The man let out a voice resembled a snort as he watched the bizarre cat. "Okay you fussy beast, it's either that chicken or this fish. Or maybe I could just let you starve." he thought the cat would stay indifferent at his offer but when he showed him the tuna, the cat gave a loud meow as an answer. Maybe he wasn't so crazy after all.

"Steamed tuna it is."

The dinner passed uneventfully. The beast was back to its mistress room after drinking some milk. Leaving him alone for some quiet time.

He was reading, cocooned by the heat from the dancing fire, when the mangy beast came again then kept biting his pants and meowing relentlessly. The beast then walked away, but kept looking back to see whether the man was following him or not. The beast was content when the tall man was following albeit sullenly.

The girl was sleeping fitfully when he came by her room with the beast. She was mumbling in her sleep, "I am sor...ry." She kept chanting those words again and again.

Coming closer, she was warm when he touch her forehead. She had a fever. Probably from the infection or because of the rain. Probably both. He gave her pills for the pain and fever. He tilted her head to feed her the medicine, "Open your mouth girl, you need to swallow the medicine so you will feel better."

Hearing the familiar voice, she did what he told obediently. She opened her mouth then swallowed the _goddamn_ bitter pill he gave her. It took her quite some time but that voice, she recognized that deep voice. That voice only belonged to one person. _But that's impossible._ In the midst of her delirium, she opened her eyes a little. Then her vision was getting blurry, without her realizing, a steady flow of tears was leaking from her eyes.

"I am sorry, I am so sorry," the girl said in her trembling voice.

The girl was in delusions, pinching the bridge of his nose, he then said, "Sleep girl. I will take you to the physician in the town tomorrow then we will call your family." He stood then trying to leave her bedside. Then his movement was halted when he felt her fingers clutching his shirt tightly.

She must be imagining things. Or she must be dreamed. But it was for the first time that she wasn't dreaming about him dying on that bloody floor. This dream was different. This dream was good. He was alive in this dream. She tried to keep her eyes opened, but her lids getting heavier. The drugs got her so drowsy. But she didn't want to leave this dream. So, with her last strength, she grabbed his shirt and held it tightly, afraid that if she lost a hold of it he would disappear.

"Please don't go, Professor Snape."

That's it, she couldn't hold it anymore. Sleep finally took over her consciousness.


End file.
